Mortal, Dreamy, Cold
by Foxes' Dreams
Summary: It was an odd avidity and grace that bespoke almost all the relentlessness and the uncharacteristic moves. Chase was poised to observe, but powerless to act in front of such a radical transformation of their relationship. Set after 2x07 "Hunting".


T.V. Show: House M.D.

Pairing: Chase/Cameron

Author: Foxes' Dreams

Summary: It was an odd avidity and grace that bespoke almost all the relentlessness and the uncharacteristic moves. Chase was poised to observe, but powerless to act in front of such a radical transformation of their relationship. Set after 2x07 "Hunting".

 _Undo my sad_

 _Undo what hurts so bad_

 _Undo my pain_

 _Gonna get out, through the rain_

 _I know that I am over you_

 _At last I know what I should do_

 _Undo my sad_

 _Yesterday,_ it was 12:25, midday. There was no menace in the morning's silvery calmness, hordes of rapidly moving and shallowly injured patients coming and venting, creating an undercurrent of acidity under the blazing blue sky that poured down torrents of light. The bittersweet flow of palpating rage and wounded sensibility was still overflowing Chase's heart. He could still sense the complacent, ungraceful caresses from that fatalistic night. Cameron's erratic, almost desperate grasps and touches remained ingrained on his delicate layer of skin as though they were bleeding scars.

While the golden gloom of the sun was oozing from between the swaying, filled with decayed log trees, Chase was wandering relentlessly in the overcrowded clinic as though looking for an awaiting task. The pile of carelessly scribbled paperwork seemed demurely appealing in such boring times, when he desperately needed relief from spiritual conflict. The gale of merriment proved to be another dauntless task, obscured by a sudden apparition that instantly smitten his delusory expectations.

Cameron entered the lobby forcefully, dressed in a cream-colored camisole and tailored pants, with hazelnut strands somehow disheveled and distraught by the usual working formality. She was bound to sink in the torrent of irrepressible work, avoiding accustoming his presence that yearned for even the most scrounged glimpse of possessive attention.

Her eyes were belatedly limpid and her brooding figure yielded to the warmth of languor and exquisite movement. She was walking with an ingratiating grace, but still invested with dignity of morality and rapid velocity.

They exchanged a brief, mildly composed hi, exposing only the rigid formality two co-workers ought to show. The dire fate was still playing tricks on them, the blank, dearly nakedness they had witness only mere weeks ago flashing like a gale of teasing merriment.

She extricated herself from the conglomeration of people with exhausting difficulty, the simple, yet seizing touch of his inky black overcoat running relentlessly over the line of her visible sternum. It was electrifying and humorously intimate.

His appraising gaze followed her as she exited the largely populated chamber, dauntless joy forming rhetorically in his large, flint-blue irises. A faint, transient scent lingered in the air, the perfume ingraining itself ruthlessly in the delicate fabric, never, in an eternity, leaving it.

 _Today,_ it is 12:25, midday and everything shifts to a different level. The sky is lightened by a thousand marble clouds, all letting themselves prey to the stinging, ever blowing wind. Chase is waiting somehow expectantly, lingering for a penetrating gaze that would haunt away the vindictive recoil forming in the pit of his tensed stomach.

Her appearance is oddly resolute and somehow choreographed, this time appearing to be a singularly acute and distraught figure, making her way through the bilious crowd of people. He is poised to observe her, to study and measure her feral, primal moves as though they are meant to attract truthful attention. Her outfit, almost entrapped in the same rhapsody of pastels, seems radiant and unchanged, provoking a tidal wave of wistful melancholy to chase down his spine. Her regular approach remains ingrained in her conduit, the close proximity only consuming their inner sentiments and rankling remorse of not having acted sooner. Dew of mawkishly effeminate sentiment radiates off his responsive pores, his cloak of prim pretense shifting to an invisible curtain of desire.

His limpid eyes are following her precisely as though the essence of her damaged soul could be found in the single agony of velocity and irregular movement. Her haughty steps, timorous and vigilant at first, stumble incoherently, causing a fully catastrophic fall, one that submerges her whole countenance and momentarily dignity.

Chase's arms protect her like a prolific vice, obscuring the sudden outburst of ungraciousness and repressing any further, malicious comments. Their chests are beautifully aligned as though breathing in tandem for a single heartbeat pace, drawing out of them the last mustering drop of musing ecstasy.

The ashamed energy propels them into the oblivion of insecurity and consequences where the spell of unity is broken. Cameron's limbs feel inhumanly volatile and fragile, almost imbued with Chase's intoxicating cologne. His chagrin comes inappropriately quick and enlarged, the teasing merriment lacing it completely.

He knows his irrational exuberance was finally freed as curse in the exterior. Her cold, impersonal gaze remains utterly still and motionless, compactly disfiguring the sharpness of the moment. There's an anachronism that needs to be overcome, to be eradicated without leaving any reappearance portal.

The exit is glorious, mimicking two different and opposite directions, to get away and isolated so that no personal, obstinate disclosure can occur. Signs are still everywhere, the yielding warmth of his breath, the gentle, still lithe scrap of her arranged nails, all leaving inner marks, intensifying their throbbing intellects and lambent feelings.

After all, they're just two passersby who get lost in the meanders of time and spiritual reputation.

Tomorrow, it will be 12:25, midday and the routine will repeat. Their duty will never shift into incoordination, fate presenting itself as the vernal incarnation of destiny. Retouched elbow on waist, the sun will be sinking in their hearts through every possible phase of splendor and violence. Heaven will be, one more time, irresistibly close and carefully approaching.

It's the fragmentary and vague touching that obsesses them, the niceness and comfort of a belated body, temple for insatiable needs.

One night, filled with one-sided resentful, futile protest and with one-sided flourish devour, changed everything.

 **Author's Note:** Both of my contests passed well, so everyone gets cookies! ^_^

Read and Review! :*


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